


electric feel

by windthorne



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Post-Canon, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23450221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windthorne/pseuds/windthorne
Summary: their story does not start with icebergs, water-sewn necklaces, and desperate hope. it starts with a strike of lightning. / a love that begins after sozin’s comet.
Relationships: Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 135





	1. prologue; save me, save you

**Author's Note:**

> i started shipping zutara 10 years ago. funny how life works. i still remember the moment i began to ship them. it wasn’t until the end of the series, when zuko takes lightning for katara. the rest is history.  
> join me as i delve into a world where they don’t fall in love until this moment.

When the crown prince takes lightning for the waterbender, she swears she can feel it hit her chest as well. In and out, exiting right through the heart. The electricity radiates around the city, raises the hair on her skin, and screams into the sky soon after.

There is a moment where she has to collect her surroundings, dazed by the electricity and enormous energy, but then she sees him crumpled on the ground- _no._

It wasn't enough. The lightning passed _right through_ him. She _feels_ it. The stupid firebender prince, idiotic in thinking that he could do this alone, took lightning for her and _saved her life_. _No, no, no-_

The waterbender surges forward, a blinding intensity in her ocean eyes, and runs to save the boy with the scar.

* * *

Every breath she takes burns.

As she drags Zuko across the eerily empty halls of the palace, she has to stop every few minutes to catch her breath. The entire city reeks of smoke and it invades her lungs. Although the town is free of any sign of life, she can still sense the power that brews deep within the mountain. So much fire burning inside.

Zuko, on the other hand, is another entity of fire itself. He’s slumped on her side, weak but able to help in moving along. The adrenaline is wearing off them both, and it’s not long before she grows tired.

“Are we almost there?” she asks, breathless.

“Turn the corner.” His voice is leathery. That’s not good.

They make it to his bedroom safe and sound, both of their footsteps careful and quiet. She unceremoniously throws him onto the bed, and he crumples into a lump. Tui and La, she knows it’s not right to throw the crown prince of the fire nation around like that, but her bones _ache_. His big build was not easy to carry, especially after the battle that just ended.

He groans at the move and lays there for a bit, face down. She sighs. “Zuko, flip over.”

He begrudgingly turns until his tattered robe is in view, along with a marred chest. She stares at it, unable to look away.

_He saved my life_ , she thinks.

Immediately she goes to find water. She moves to his sink and pulls the water to her beckoning. His scar is sheathed in glowing blue light soon after.

“Katara,” he opens his eyes, “We just got out of there. I’m fine. Just rest.”

“It’s going to scar more if I don’t fix it.” She presses onward, avoiding his stare.

“It doesn’t matter to me.” His voice is softer. She stills, remembering the one that mars his face, so beautifully, so tragically.

“It’s not about that,” she says, momentarily stopping in her task, “You've been through so much. I just don’t want you to feel anymore pain.”

“It’s okay. It’s not so bad with you here.” He closes his eyes again. She’s not sure if he knows the weight of his words, but it’s enough for her to not have an answer.

After a lapse of silence, she tries to draw the water again—only to be met by his hands.

“Katara,” her name sounds like a hymn, “Rest.”

She makes a face, unable to hide her disappointment.

Still, rest does sound nice. But she just can’t relax, not in this location, where they are alone, unguarded.

“I’ll keep watch. You should listen to your own advice first.” She places her hand to his heart.

“How could I? You might run off and I’ll have to protect you again.”

“We both know I don’t need protection, thank you very much.” She snaps, looking away, but only out of concern. “Zuko, you didn’t—you shouldn’t have—“

“I did it and it’s done. I have no regrets, Katara.”

She looks up at him, amber meeting blue, and the look he’s giving her is clear. He means every word, and they both don’t need to say anything else to know.

He would do it for her again, and again, and again. Just as she would for him.

(The way he’s looking at her makes her heart beat a little faster, though she doesn’t know why.)

She’s the first to break the stand-off, finally succumbing to his request and laying down next to him. They stare at the maroon ceiling together, thinking off into silence.

Her thoughts take over, thinking of Aang, Sokka, Toph, Suki, the invasion. Have they won? Are they okay? Will they make it home safe? Everything she can’t afford to think about drills into her mind, and the silence is too loud—

“Rest.” he says it once more. She turns to him, his eyes now closed and breathing more evenly.

She focuses on his chest again, and her eyes water.

He doesn’t even feel sorry about what he did for her, and that’s what worries her the most.

She should be worried. Too many people have sacrificed their lives for the greater good.

But this boy–this prince–this _king_ –is bound for more than she could ever describe.

And yet he took lightning for her without knowing if he would make it.

Is it selfish to not want him to ever do that again?

“No,” he says, “It would never be.”

He startles her, and she nearly jumps two feet away from him.

Did she just say that _out loud?_

“I understand how you feel obliged to help me,” he keeps his eyes closed, and she wonders when he started to be able to talk with her like this, “But I’m going to be okay.”

She huffs. “It doesn’t hurt to want to help you.”

He doesn’t answer for awhile, and she begins to drift off into sleep. The weight of the world finally presses down on her, until she hears it–

“It doesn’t hurt to want to protect you.”

Her breath catches, but she doesn't dare open her eyes. Instinctively, she feels him move slightly closer to her, the space between them very small.

“Just… let me.” He asks her with a pinkie drifting a little ways from her little finger.

“Let me protect you.”

* * *

In her dreams, she answers by intertwining her finger with his. 

* * *

Nothing disturbs them for the rest of the day, and when they wake up sore and bruised and battered, she realizes she wasn't dreaming.

Still, she grabs the water once again. He keeps his eyes on her all the same.

(She feels herself blushing, and sees the matching slightly pink tint of his cheeks, but they both pretend not to notice.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, katara is a headstrong lady and zuko is a total dork. but katara is also a young girl whose life was just saved by the prince of the fire nation, and zuko is a teenage boy who is admiring the resolve of the avatar’s waterbending master. sometimes she is rendered speechless. sometimes he can have a way with words.  
> or maybe they’re just too tired to be acting right and i’m an ooc master……...  
> tbc. pls review. i have big plans ;)


	2. year 1, seasons with you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a midnight update bc why not. here’s a little something for zk month 2020, day 1: flowers and day 2: winter.  
> this story mostly follows canon except for two particular scenes in the last episode. yep. you know which two i’m talking about.

Zuko is tired.

Tired. Utterly exhausted. Worn out. All of the above.

No word could perfectly describe just how little energy he had in him. From his coronation to now, he has signed and scrutinized at least one formal scroll every single day. Piles and stacks of paperwork, to the point where he would probably need glasses before he turned twenty. There seemed to be no end in sight for him, from figuring out the ever-faltering economy, silencing the rebels and the warmongers, to even dealing with _who the hell isn't feeding the turtleducks, they’re starving out here._ He’s lucky he has Uncle around to help, and there’s the occasional political advice of Mai, but still.

Toph and Aang have been traveling around, helping the refugees and doing “avatar balance” duties, while Sokka, Katara, and Suki went back to their respective homes to help rebuild. 

That left him here, and it… was quite stressful, to say the least.

So when he casually sends a letter for help to his friends (and _not_ because he wanted a companion), he doesn’t really expect anything.

The days are difficult, debating with the officials about policies and laws and business, leaving him drained. He forgets about the letter after a while, and sleep never truly leaves his eyes. His smiles are few and frequent, instead replaced with frowns and blank stares.

And then, weeks later, she strides in like a forgotten prayer answered, one hand on her hip and the other holding his scroll.

“Hi. Sokka was busy designing the tribe’s new forts, and Suki is still trying to train the warriors out of practice. So I guess you have to deal with me for now.”

He stares at Katara for a moment, not really sure if it’s actually her. She looks the same as she did weeks ago, only her hair is slightly shorter. Nevertheless, he has to shake his head and clear his throat.

“Hi” is all that manages to come out of his mouth.

“Did you send this to everyone else?”

“Yes.”

“Is anyone else coming?”

“Dunno.”

“Are you only going to answer in one word?”

“No.”

She raises a brow at him, and this is when his confusion dissipates. This is most definitely her, without a doubt.

He stands up slowly, stretching out his back and dropping his pen on the paper. “Sorry.”

She laughs, he smacks his head.

“Sorry, I swear I know how to talk,” he lets out a long sigh, walking towards her. “It’s been a long day.”

“You should rest.” She immediately moves towards him as well, probably to put a hand to his face, always the healer.

“Now you’re telling me to rest,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, well,” she holds the scroll up in her hand. “Even this letter sounded beat up.” She then takes his hand. “Come on, let’s go welcome your new guest. You could use the break.”

“My new guest? Who?”

“ _Me_ , silly.” She rolls her eyes and pulls him towards the door. “Oh Tui and La, you _do_ need help.”

He can’t help but match the soft smile that gleams across her face. On his desk, the piles of paper are left untouched for the rest of the day.

* * *

At the peak of autumn, the heat is no longer suffocating, and he starts to grow his hair out. Just a little bit, nice enough to put his crown up into. It’s also nice not hearing the complaints of the ministers, telling him to “look more professional.”

Ruling the nation doesn’t get easier, but he begins to fall into the rhythm of the days.

Wake up, go to meetings, sneak in a meal or two, feed the turtleducks, sign more paperwork, go to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

He will admit things have become a lot easier ever since Katara arrived. With her barking at the council members like she was born to do it, policies start to fall into place. And only she could do it--literally, she was the water tribe ambassador and there was no going around it.

He still had little free time, and every moment he had with her was spent either arguing over the laws of the world, showing her parts of the palace repeatedly to the point where he gave her a map, and bickering over if he ate that day, which usually was no, he didn’t.

Nevertheless, little free time was still enough for them. It was always the little things, anyway.

During one of the days when he decides to hide from his ministers and just _breathe_ , he luckily runs into her.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She asks as he’s cornered in one of the less guarded areas of the palace.

“Hiding from Minister Chen and my uncle.” He blinks. What are _you_ doing here?”

“Uh—I’m not lost if that’s what you’re thinking.” He notes the map hidden behind her back.

“Okay, sure.” He decides to not make her more wary. “Wanna join me in hiding?”

She quickly answers with a nod, eyes wide and curious.

* * *

They walk into the library, but continue past the aisles of books until they’re in the back of the grand room.

Once he’s sure none of the guards are nearby, he tugs a book on the back shelf, and the wall moves ever so slightly.

Her mouth drops. “You’re _kidding_ ,” and she begins to stifle a giggle rising in her throat, “A hidden door in the library. Haven’t heard of that before.”

“Right?” He smiles, and thinks that he _probably_ shouldn’t be showing her this, as only members of the royal family are allowed here. But he pushes the thought to the back of his head and moves onward.

The passage is dark, small and compact, but they slip through with the stealth that children of war possess. 

Once he closes the wall, he holds a flame up to brighten the way.

“It’s pitch black. There’s no way anybody but a firebender could move through these paths,” She muses. “Unless you had a lantern or something. Are there more of these secret doors?”

“Yes. They’re all over the palace.” He starts to walk, and she follows. “But nobody knows about them, and this is the most easily accessible passage.”

She takes this into account silently, and they continue to move quietly down the eerie, yet strangely serene walkway.

They stroll for a few more minutes before meeting a dusted door. He pushes on it roughly, and then the light of the outside world blinds them instantly.

But when their eyes adjust, he ushers her to walk outside, and he follows her footsteps as her mouth once again drops in awe.

They arrive at the secret garden, open to the sun, but closed to the public eye. Tall hedges line the small area and leave only overgrown weeds, dead flowers, and untamed vines scattered across the yard.

He lets her take in his hiding spot for a bit, wondering what she was thinking. After a moment, he explains. “It was my mother’s hiding spot,” he says. “She was the one that maintained the garden, kept it growing.” He doesn’t say any more, for she knows the rest of that story.

“Ah,” she says, still staring at the space with wide eyes.

She continues to scan the environment and soon points at an area of small fire lilies. “Look! There’s still some life.” 

“Yeah,” he says, walking over to the bench besides the flowers, and sits. She follows. “I guess the rain kept some of the vegetation growing. I try to bring water sometimes to grow them, but I can’t always come here.”

She nods in understanding, deep in thought, and soon pulls out her water pouch. She immediately douses the few live plants with her remaining water, and he has to hold in a chuckle because he just knew she would do exactly that. He watches as she continues to scout the small garden for signs of life, but most of it is already wilting in the fall season.

“I know it’s not all that great looking.” He looks at the sky, inhales the fresh air, then goes back to watching her.

“But it’s peaceful. And I think it’s still beautiful.” She comes back to the bench, smiling. “Would you mind if I came here sometimes?” She carefully grazes the fire lily, “It’s so _secretive_. I like it.”

He nods. “Just make sure no one sees you if you do.” 

Then, he reaches over for one of the flowers and picks it. Katara gasps.

“What’re you doing? I just watered it.” She’s about to reach for it herself, but he offers it instead.

“You look like you want it so bad, so have it.” He muses, holding it out. “The flower will soon wilt, anyway. Who knows when you or I might come back here again.”

She simply stares at him, a little bit of shock, surprise, and something else unreadable in her expression. Still, she takes the flower from him slowly.

“Do you always give girls almost-dead flowers?”

“...No.” He instantly frowns, but he can feel the temperature in him rising. “Do you not want them?”

“No!” She waves her hands. “I mean, yes! I do. Want them. It’s nice.” Her gaze moves to the fire lily. “You’re nice. Thank you.”

He doesn’t ever recall anybody calling him nice in his life. Ever. “You’re welcome.”

And there is a moment, when she brings the flower to her face and inhales its scent, that is engraved into his memory forever. The way the wind blows, sending her hair flying back, making her lashes dance in the breeze, blooming the flower a bit more. It’s a moment that stumps him and leaves him speechless.

He’ll give her flowers any day, if it means getting the chance to relive that moment once again.

(Yes, it was the little things.)

* * *

When winter time hits the fire nation, it feels more like a spring breeze rather than a cruel snow storm. Sometimes, he’ll catch Katara walking around, feeling the air drift through her fingers, and maybe she is thinking of home. Home, where it is colder, the floor is whiter, and the air is heavier. She tells him this as they sit by the turtleducks, mindlessly recalling the place she grew up in.

And he can’t help it. Sometimes he wonders.

“Do you want to go back?” he asks quietly.

She doesn’t answer at first, and when he turns to look at her, he sees her letting down her hair from its usual braid, letting it unravel to cover her neck. The strands cascade along her collarbone, and he watches.

Another moment passes as she shakes her hair out, before turning to him. “What?”

He clears his throat, blinking rapidly. “Uh—” He looks at the turtleducks, ripping an unusually large piece of bread for them. “I asked, uh—do you want to go back.”

He can feel her gaze on him, her voice confused. “Go back where?”

“To your home,” he says matter-of-factly, not meeting her eyes, “To the south.”

She takes the ripped piece of bread from him and tears it into two smaller pieces. “Sometimes,” she admits, before throwing one piece into the lake. “But it comes and goes. Besides, I was the one that chose to come here.” She throws the other piece. “Homes change, and people change. When I went back, it was wonderful to see everyone again. To be home with Gran-Gran. It was great.”

His shoulders sink a little.

“But, after seeing the world…” She drifts off, a little lost in her thoughts. “I realized my home is not only in the south. I realized I can have a home in many other places.”

He nods, now turning away from the pond and looking back at her.

“Home is on Appa’s back with Aang. On dad’s boat with Sokka. In the muddy grasslands with Toph. Kyoshi Island with Suki.” She pauses, before meeting his gaze. “And here, in the palace gardens, with you.”

He tries to hide the smile creeping up on his lips, and fails.

After that, he no longer wonders.

* * *

The spring breeze is warmer than usual this year, and when she drags him on breaks to walk on the beach (because yes, _fire lords still need breaks_ ), he makes sure to walk slower, basking in the sun, sand and water, where his element meets hers. She talks and talks and talks about the letters she receives from her brother and Aang, the guards who give her extra ocean kumquats, and the one merchant who’s always talking about her eyes.

“He really just wants me to buy the jewelry.” She scoffs, kicking the sand as they walk.

“What does he say to you?” he asks quietly.

Her voice drops a tone to mimic the merchant. “He always says ‘your sky blue eyes would compliment these sapphire gems exquisitely!’”

“Oh, yeah, that’s definitely a scam.”

She stops in her walk, turning to face him. She puts her hands on her hips. “Is he wrong?”

“Well, a little,” he muses. “I don’t think your eyes are the color of the sky. I’d say your eyes remind me more of the ocean.”

They both turn to the sea, a rush of waves hitting his feet. His robes are drenched. He doesn’t mind much.

“The ocean?”

“Yes.” He ponders about the years he spent on the sea, looking for a soul who was asleep. “It’s beautiful.”

“Oh, so you’re saying my eyes are beautiful.”

“Yeah, they are.” He answers without thinking. It just comes out. 

...And then it sinks in. “Uh. Well.”

They both stand still, the ocean waves passing by their feet.

The words linger in the air, along with the thick sea salt smell. It’s too late to take it back, and honestly he doesn’t know how to counter himself so he’s ready to blame it on his restlessness.

And yet. When he turns to look at her to gauge her reaction, she’s only smiling at the view, chuckling quietly. Though, he takes note of her undeniable reddened cheeks.

The heat must be getting to her, he thinks. Maybe. Or, it could be...

“Let’s go back, it’s really hot out today.”

She looks at him now with those blue, blue eyes, and yes, it’s too late to take it back, but there’s no harm in telling her the truth. Even if they’re both as red as the flags hanging around the dock, as red as his soaked robes, as red as his country.

“Zuko, you idiot.” She says nothing more, and continues walking down where the sand meets the water. He stares at her back for a moment, then glances to the sea.

Soon after, he follows her footsteps.

The little things, he thinks once more.

* * *

Suddenly, just like that, a year has passed since he took the throne.

The summertime anniversary celebration of the end of the war comes, and he still has to deal with the politics of it all. Even with the reunion of all his friends, back together once again, he finds barely any time to interact with them. Talking to his council members, Earth Kingdom elites, and Water Tribe tribesmen is a beat-down after all.

There really seemed to be no end in sight.

Tonight, though, particularly bothers him.

Everyone is here, except for one person.

Aang is busy entertaining the guests with his air-spinning liquid ball whatever-the-heck it’s called. Toph has taken to herself to annoy every elderly in the room with her burping. Sokka has been charming it up with Suki, his arm around her the entire night. _The entire night._ How he is able to keep his sweat from consuming them both alludes Zuko.

Katara, on the other hand—She made a brief appearance, only enough for them to make eye contact for a few seconds before they were both called away. Since then, he hasn’t seen her. What has she been up to? And where is she? The ballroom was only so big.

He goes to grab himself some wine at the large dining table, in hopes of quenching his dry throat. It’s not Fire Lord-like to grab his own drink, but at this point he really does not care. So much talking, when will he get peace and quiet?

He wishes to escape to his mother’s garden right now, silently remembering the last time he went—in autumn, dying plants spread across the space.

He sighs. _Who knows when you or I might come back here again._

And then he hears a voice.

“Zuko.”

He scrunches his brows. What in Agni...

The voice is below him.

“Kat—”

“Do not. Say my name.”

“What—Are you—”

“Get over here.”

And just like that, just as Toph lets out an exceptionally loud burp, the esteemed and powerful fire lord is pulled under the table with a water whip. 

Promptly sliding next to the person he’s been looking for all night.

“Oh thank Yue, I've been waiting to see those ragged boots. Why do you insist on wearing those all the time?”

He’s practically splayed all over the floor. Imagine if the world saw him like this right now. Meanwhile, she’s sitting prim and proper on a pillow, with a water tribe scroll and wine. 

He sputters. “What are you _doing_ here? I’ve been looking for you all night!”

“Oh, I’m flattered to hear the fire lord has been seeking me.” She smiles coyly.

He takes that small moment to appreciate her smile, already settling him down from his stress. Even sitting under a table, she exuded calm and peace in the midst of a crowded room.

She had the power of her presence, as if she was fit to rule a kingdom.

—And then he remembers that _he_ is a ruler of a kingdom, and he is _under a table._ “Can you please tell me why you’re here of all places? Hiding?”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk!”

“I am.”

“Are not.”

They glare at each other.

“Okay, yes, I _know_ that this event means a lot to all of us, but I really just had to finish reading this story—” She gestures to the scroll. “Really, your library has hidden gems. But I am almost done, I just have a little more to go—”

“Katara, it’s been two hours since the celebration started. Do you _hear_ Toph?” He runs a hand through his hair, accidentally knocking into his crown before frowning. “There’s only so much I can do. Once she starts it’s not stopping any time soon.”

She makes a face. “I swear I’m almost done.”

“Didn’t you say that yesterday?”

She starts to say something (probably about how she is almost there but she is certainly not), but he interjects. “Can you just come outside and dance with me?”

The expression she’s making makes him immediately regret saying anything. She looks practically distraught.

“Uh. Or. We can just sit here.”

“Wait, no—” She looks at him more now in disbelief. “I’m not thinking what you think I’m thinking. I’m just surprised.”

He raises a brow.

And then she sets down the scroll, for the first time in four days, and suddenly he doesn’t care about anything. “Since when have you ever danced?”

He rolls his eyes. “I was a prince, I had to learn prince things like dancing.”

“Yes, but you’re now a lord. Do lords dance?”

“Well, not if they don’t want to. And I don’t really want to,” he says, peeking through the table covers sneakily. “Not unless it’s with you.”

A beat. He feels the subtle energy between them changing. A very long moment passes, and he starts to feel awkward.

He looks at her, ready to apologize (he doesn’t even know what to say sorry for, it just wants to come out), even though he’s just speaking his mind—

And it’s not like he can help it, after all, he’s just speaking the truth. He does think her eyes look like the ocean. He does like how her hair looked that one day. And he does want to dance with her right now, and only her—

She’s blushing.

Oh.

Well now he is, too, probably.

Another moment passes, and without speaking or looking at him, she swiftly tucks the scroll under the pillow, and slips out the other side of the dining table. He doesn’t know what to think of it, but he follows soon after. She’s already making her way to the ballroom floor, not even turning back to glance at him.

(Probably to hide how red her face is.)

Meanwhile, he catches the eye of his uncle, who saw them emerge from under the table. He’s giving him _that_ look.

Oh, Agni. He will deal with _that_ later. He will deal with all the politics later, for crying out loud.

For now, he makes his way towards her.

She’s elegant and terrifying at the same time, as she turns around and finally faces him. The crimson cheeks are gone, but she is smiling at him and only him.

As he places a hand on her waist and grabs her hand, he suddenly forgets about Toph’s burping, Aang’s liquid-bending, and Sokka’s sweating. Instead, he focuses on Katara’s presence. 

Memories of the past year pass through his mind, to moments where it is just them. Autumn at the garden, winter at the pond, spring at the beach. And now summer, here at the dance floor. 

He remembers their conversation by the turtleducks— _I realized I can have a home in many other places._

A subtle thought hits him. It’s nothing like the lighting that struck him or the comet that scorched the land a year ago. It’s a soft, but unwavering realization that plants into his mind.

To him, anywhere with her is home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the thing that both irks me and liberates me is when the characters hijack the story and make it go one way that you definitely didn't plan for. that’s what’s happening right now. while writing this, i had to redo my whole outline, dump out my original story and start over. oh well, no rugrats.  
> i'm reading every single review, and i just want to say i love you all to pieces. thank you, from the bottom of my heart.  
> tbc.


End file.
